Chapter Nine
Camille
“You’re messing with us,” Chase said, shaking his head slowly, his blue eyes wide. He took another bite of birthday cake, his lips slightly stained with blue icing.
The three red-headed boys I’d spent my childhood helping my mother corral were now men, all listening intently as our hometown version of Dateline: The Saga of Madison unfolded.
Sharing our oddball drama in the best-yet-still-mediocre hotel suite Eakins had to offer wasn’t exactly the beach vacation we’d dreamed of. Now that everyone—including Mom—had moved away, we’d been trying to plan a trip to Tybee Island so we could be together for her birthday. When I couldn’t make it work, they decided to descend upon our hometown for the weekend so we could at least all eat cake and ice cream while crammed together under one roof.
I watched their expressions subtly change from disbelief to anger to worry as Trenton detailed the story. They’d each been shaped by their own battles that came with the transition to adulthood. Chase, the eldest, looked at his wife, Shannon. She was also a redhead, and while it made for spicy arguments on a regular basis, she was also the only woman who could keep him in line. While I looked like our father, Chase fully embodied his personality, and Dad, more often than not, chose to be cruel. Shannon had a sixth sense-like instinct, somehow knowing when our father’s influence was about to rear its ugly head. Her calming words or well-timed barbs never failed to strangle Chase’s temper before it fully took hold. Her interventions weren’t always smooth, at times downright explosive, but Shannon never backed down. She loved him fiercely, claws and all. Ironically, her own sharp edges were what kept Chase from becoming the man he despised most.
We’d buried Dad without tears. Some might say he got a better death than he deserved. The first responders called it a ‘widow-maker’ heart attack. He was dead before he hit the floor. Birthdays were enjoyable now, freed from the tension and forced smiles that had once accompanied them. Without having to tiptoe around his moods, special occasions and holidays finally felt like celebrations. Laughter felt lighter, easier—real. It was a relief we rarely dared to say out loud.
Coby, my youngest brother, had found him, TV remote still in hand, a half-empty bottle of scotch by his side. I nudged him with my foot, and he smirked, pushing me back. Coby worried me, especially in the days following Dad’s death—I’d even picked up shifts at The Red to save enough for his next stint in rehab, just in case—but he surprised us all, always being the one to check on Mom and hold us together—even falling in love and then convincing his girlfriend to leave her life in Eakins behind and move with his job when Mom decided to sell the house. He was a plane ride away from all of us, but he’d racked up the most miles to Ohio to visit Mom. He reminded me a lot of Trenton in that way, caring for the parent left behind.
His narrow green eyes danced from me to my husband, and then to his girlfriend, Holly.
“Don’t look at me. I went to school with her. She’s always been a little off,” Holly said.
“Raegan still has perfect timing,” Clark added. His birth was sandwiched between Chase and Coby, and he was every bit the middle child—the peace maker, the showoff, and lately, all about silver linings. His wife Anna was the daughter of the praise and worship leader at a local church, and she’d led him to all things Jesus. I expected Clark to call home warning us about Hell and speaking in scripture, but it just made him… happy. He was lighter, insurmountably more hopeful, and invited us to church the handful of times a year he’d visit.
No pressure, but it’s gonna be a good one , he’d say with a smile.
Sometimes, I went, but more often than not, I didn’t wait to be invited.
Anna rubbed her round belly and shifted on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. Her almond-shaped blue eyes, bronze skin, and hair that fell in long, dark waves made their upcoming infant’s appearance anyone’s guess. Clark was nearly a foot taller than her. They could have a fun-sized, tan ginger with green eyes, a freckled, Amazonian dark-haired child, or anything in between. But no one was more excited to find out than Clark.
I looked to Trenton, fantasizing for the two millionth time what our child might look like, but then pushed that thought aside when my mother brushed her knuckles against her nose, which she always did before she spoke. It was residual from when she was married to her aggressive, loud, overbearing husband, and every time it made me remember how grateful I was for cholesterol.
My mother, with her now salt and pepper hair pulled into a low bun, pushed up her glasses and frowned. “A restraining order is about as good as the paper it’s written on. What else do you plan to do?” She was looking at Trenton, not me.
My husband shrugged. “I mean, she’s still young, practically still a kid. A weird one, but just a kid. I’ve spoken to her parents, and she’s in a psychiatric clinic, hospital or whatever in Grand Rapids. I’m just glad she’s getting help. It’s not her fault.”
I smiled at Trenton and rubbed his arm. Coby wasn’t as happy with his answer.
“And when she gets out?” he pressed. “The things she’s already pulled, trying to break you two up, making a scene—who knows what she’ll do next. Didn’t her dad say there was something… weird in her room? Like an altar or something?”
Trenton chuckled. “No, he definitely didn’t say that. He didn’t say what it was, just that whatever was in her room was concerning. It could’ve been a diary, for all we know.”
“My money’s on a Trenton Shrine,” Coby teased. “All hail Trenton, god of whiskey and wet dreams.”
Holly tried to suppress a grin and nudged his ribs with her elbow.
“Still,” Coby muttered, unconvinced.
Trenton’s cell phone chirped, and he looked down. “Huh,” he said. “Tommy and Liis flew in.” He looked up at me. “Did you know they were coming?”
I shrugged. “No.”
“They’re asking us to meet them at the house.”
“Our house?” I asked. “Not your dad’s?”
Trenton looked at the text again and shook his head. “He said the house .”
I made a face. “Weird.”
He mirrored my expression. “I know, right?”
Saying quick goodbyes, we headed out to the truck hand in hand. Trenton drove faster than usual, curiosity getting the better of him. When we arrived home, Thomas and Liis weren’t yet there, so we went inside, flipping on lights, adjusting the thermostat, and straightening up a bit. My fingers brushed over the faint outlines of the life we’d built together, feeling a sudden swell of gratitude for our humble abode and everything within it; though those moments of joy were sometimes bittersweet when shadowed by the thought of our empty nursery.
I put my hands flat on the counter, staring down into the drain, knowing it wouldn’t be a typical visit. The doorbell rang, and Trenton jogged across the living room and answered the door. He greeted his brother, and I heard Liis’s voice as they said their hellos.
“Is Cami here?” Liis asked.
“In the kitchen,” I called, watching as the brothers followed Liis to the sound of my voice.
My in-laws paused when I came into view, smiling at me.
Trenton’s eyes bounced back and forth between Thomas, Liis, and then to me. “What brings you into town?”
Liis blinked, then peeled off her backpack, setting it on one of the island’s barstools. “We heard you’ve had a weird couple of weeks,” she said.
Trenton’s brows pulled together.
Thomas chuckled. “Dad told us about your pest problem.”
My husband looked to me, but I was just as confused as he was.
“Madison,” Liis offered.
“Oh,” Trenton said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, that. Awkward as fuck, but yeah.”
“You booked a flight for that?” I asked.
“No,” Liis said. “We’re on our way back from DC. Thought we’d stop for the night.”
“So…” Trenton said, balling his hand into a fist and covering it with his other hand.
“So, yeah. Hi,” Thomas said.
Liis held her hands up near her shoulders, wiggling her fingers. “Surprise,” she said, as cheerful as her stoic nature would allow.
“You found the house okay?” Trenton asked. “Because… you know… you’ve never been here before.”
“Is it weird that we’re here?” Liis asked, glancing to Thomas. “We did just drop in, I guess it’s kind of odd. We can meet you at Jim’s.”
“Negative,” Trenton said, guiding them to the living room, gesturing for me to follow. “It just didn’t seem like your run-of-the-mill visit, so I thought it had to be important.”
As I sat next to Trenton, I realized his anxiousness was for a different reason than mine. When Thomas and Liis announced they were expecting, he didn’t seem to trust my reaction—or lack of one. His energy had been off the moment he saw Thomas’s text, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he thought my emotional state after visiting with Abby and Liis was really about seeing Liis so obviously pregnant, and he was worried it would hurt me again. It was the only scenario that made sense, because nothing bothered Trenton much, except when it came to protecting my heart.
After his brothers announced each of their wives’ pregnancies, it triggered an avalanche of conflicting feelings, and I felt guilty about half of them. The excitement on their faces, the way the family rallied around them with congratulations and eager plans for baby showers, was a bittersweet reminder of how something that seemed impossible for us came so easily to others. I’d always thought those thoughts were uniquely mine, but I’d noticed something different in Trenton—a flicker in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw. It wasn’t until then that I realized Trenton might have secretly feared the day Thomas and Liis would announce their own news, adding their names to the list of brothers who had beaten us to parenthood, not for his sake, but for mine.
Thomas sighed and sat back, perching his arm on the back of the loveseat behind Liis. “Dad’s tired. We got in later than we thought, so we thought we’d just come over here and catch up.”
“Oh,” Liis said, frowning.
“What, love?” Thomas said, seeming concerned.
“Remember when I said I needed to go to the store earlier?”
“Oh. Damn.” He looked to me. “I had a buddy pick us up from the airport and bring us here. Do you think you could run Liis to the store before it closes?”
“Uh—” I looked at the big, round clock in the kitchen.
“A convenience store will work. I forget the stores close earlier here,” Liis said.
“Yeah,” I said, standing. “Of course.” I bent down to peck Trenton on the lips.
“Drive careful,” Trenton said.
Liis grabbed her purse from the kitchen island, and we headed out the front door, climbing into my SUV. I backed out of the driveway, the quiet settling between us, both lost in our own thoughts. Just as we approached the closest Wal-Mart, I noticed the sign that normally glowed brightly above the easement between the parking lot and street click off.
“Looks like it just closed.” I glanced over at her. “There’s a Quik Mart up ahead, just a block over.” She nodded, and I turned in that direction.
When I pulled in and parked, Liis didn’t move. Instead, she reached over and turned down the radio. I sat back, trying to make sense of her unusually quiet demeanor—from what I could see in my peripheral. Liis was always composed, the type who could say more with a raised eyebrow than I could in a paragraph, but this was different. She wasn’t just being her reserved self; she was holding something back.
I shifted, suddenly aware of my own reflection in the windshield compared to hers. Liis sat there in her neatly pressed slacks, a tailored blazer that didn’t look too stiff or formal, and heels that were practical but polished. Although she was heavily pregnant and had spent the day traveling, her blouse—a soft pastel—was perfectly unwrinkled, and even her minimal makeup was expertly done. She looked like she’d just finished a photoshoot for the maternity section of an Ann Taylor catalog, every piece intentional and seamless, without a single strand of hair out of place.
When I traveled, it was in leggings and fuzzy boots, an oversized hoodie, and a trucker hat to conceal my ratty hair.
I glanced down, still in my work clothes—a worn concert tee layered with a flannel shirt I hadn’t checked for stains, paired with ripped jeans that were more accidental than trendy. My boots were scuffed, and I hadn’t used a hairbrush in over twelve hours. Next to Liis, I looked thrown together by a thrift store clearance bin. She made it look effortless, and I admired that about her. It was something I could never quite pull off, even on my better days.
Liis was still staring at the dash, her hand resting lightly on the knob she’d used to turn down the radio. She finally blinked, her shoulders shifting as if she’d suddenly remembered I was there. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t like her to let it so obviously consume her.
“I’ve thought the entire way here of how to speak to you about this,” she began.
My stomach instantly felt sick.
“I do this all day for my job, with agents, with people of interest, hard core criminals, but this,” she breathed out a laugh, “I’m struggling with.”
She waited another full minute.
“Oh, for the love of God, Liis, just say it,” I groaned, unable to wait a second longer.
She turned to me. “You’ve known Thomas and I work for the Bureau since St. Thomas. How did you know about Abby’s connection?”
“It was a short leap. I didn’t finish college, but I can still put two and two together without a calculator.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you known?” Her earlier hesitation was a ploy. Liis was now dialed in and ready to pounce.
I shrugged. “Not long after I saw you at Abby’s. It’s just the way my brain works. When things don’t make sense, I make connections until they do.”
“What about Travis? What was the math there?”
“Travis and Lachlan,” I added.
She shifted to face me head on. “I need you to level with me. What exactly do you know, Camille?”
“It was an accident, Liis. When I came to Abby’s and you and her had all the papers on the table, I couldn’t quit thinking about it, and it just sort of snowballed. I don’t know details, just that Abby is helping with whatever you, Thomas, and Travis are working on. The rest are just theories.”
“Please enlighten me.”
“Okay… Travis is working undercover, probably for Benny Carlisi, as part of some kind of deal with the feds after the fire. Abby has valuable intel because of her childhood and her dad being Mick Abernathy. I don’t really know how Kostas is involved, but he randomly moved to Eakins, bought IronE, and sends Travis on too many work trips for a small-town personal trainer. Kostas is around Abby so much I once wondered if they were having an affair. He immediately scans every room he’s in for exits and potential threats just like you and Thomas do. Travis is an asset, Abby is more of an off-the-books consultant, but Kostas is definitely an agent. I’d put money on it.”
Liis faced forward, letting her head fall back against the seat, frustration weighing down her delicate features. “If you know, someone else has to.”
Her remark rubbed me the wrong way. “Who else is observing your late-night evidence reviews with Abby, knows Travis’s travel schedule and what Thomas does? Who else knows about Abby, Mick, and the Carlisis? I only know because Travis mentioned it to Trent once, and he told me. It’s not that obvious, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“If you figured it out…” she grumbled.
“Hey,” I snapped. Not even chronic, all-consuming guilt could stop my Irish temper from bubbling to the surface. “I’ve put up with a lot of shit over the years, but you’re not going to sit in my car and insult my intelligence just because you’re afraid you’ve been sloppy.”
Liis chewed on the inside of her lip, trying to swallow my words. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But if Travis finds out…”
“Travis doesn’t know Abby’s helping?”
“No, and neither does Thomas,” she said.
I gripped the steering wheel and let my forehead rest against it. “Great. Add it to the list of things I’m keeping from people who will hate me for it later. You didn’t have to tell me that part. I was fine not knowing.”
“Yes, I did. If you casually mentioned Abby’s involvement to Thomas or Travis under the mistaken assumption they were aware, Travis would put a stop to it. He won’t be able to see past his protective instincts long enough to understand that Abby’s input has been invaluable to this investigation and will result in his freedom. If Travis finds out, it’s all over. Our work will come to an abrupt halt. And you cannot, under any circumstances, tell Trent. I don’t care if he’s your husband, this isn’t your secret to tell.”
I scoffed. “I haven’t said anything in all this time, and you flew all the way here, that pregnant, just to scold me?”
“No… maybe… if that’s what it takes.”
I shook my head, jerking the gearshift into Drive. “You are unbelievable.”
“Wait,” she said, putting her hand on mine. “I’m awful, I get it. But it had to be said. I had to be sure. The more people who know, the greater the chance Travis’s cover is blown. They won’t hesitate—they’ll kill him. Abby. The kids. Do you understand? So, yes. I’m sorry if you feel like I don’t trust you, but your feelings aren’t the priority right now.”
I sighed, putting my SUV back into Park. “ You put them in this position.”
“You don’t get it. Bringing Travis on gave him immunity for the fire. He was absolutely looking at prison time, Cami. Abby, too. She was looking at a laundry list adding up to an equal or longer sentence than Travis. Conspiracy, accessory after the fact, aiding and abetting, obstruction, failure to report, false statements to federal and local authorities, tampering, harboring...” she trailed off, noticing my increasing discomfort. “Glad to see this is clicking for you, Nancy Drew. Thomas tried to find another way, but the brass forced his hand. Abby figured it out and wanted to help so it’s over faster. Travis would’ve never agreed to her getting involved. Is it fucked up? Yes. But it’s a means to an end. If we couldn’t trust you not to—”
“I’ve given you no reason not to trust me!”
“Okay,” Liis said, holding her tiny palm out. “Okay, you’re right. I just had to be sure. I’m good at my job, and I love what I do, but believe me when I say this is about family. We’re not dealing with your average Most Wanted. These people filet babies in front of their mothers, they’ve staged coups to overthrow entire governments, and they have eyes everywhere, even inside the Bureau. It’s more dangerous than any investigation I’ve been a part of. We’ve already interrupted several channels for them, and they’d love nothing more than to make examples of us.
“Including you, Cami. If they even suspect you know something, you’ll go from being a potential target to being the bullseye. That also means your brothers, your mother, Raegan… Anyone you care about they’ll use to control you or devastate you into submission.”
My heart knocked against my ribcage, beating so hard I could feel my bones rattle with each pulse. “I understand,” I seethed.
Liis gave a single nod, then stepped out, disappearing into the convenience store to buy something she didn’t need. It was another lie, one of many Trenton would understand if he ever found out, but it would still sting—a betrayal wrapped in good intentions was just lipstick on a pig.
I couldn’t hate Thomas for pursuing his dream as an agent of the FBI, so I cursed the Bureau under my breath instead. A familiar, helpless anger bubbled, needing redirection toward an unseen enemy, reminding me of how Trenton described the way it felt to watch me writhe in pain every thirty or so days. Tears broke free, hot and heavy, spilling down my cheeks as I sat there, powerless against it all.
The passenger door opened, and Liis gracefully ascended into her seat, freezing when her eyes observed my wet, blotchy cheeks. “I hope you’re angry crying, because if it’s sadness or fear, I should warn you I’ve been told I’m about as comforting as a cactus.”
“I’m trying not to hate you both.”
She nodded, looking down at the small plastic sack in her hands. “We deserve that.”
I sighed, wiping residual tears from my cheeks and jawline. “So… how can I help?”
“By doing nothing.”
I closed my eyes. “Fuck you. Fuck you, Liis. I can’t just… do nothing.”
Liis’s voice was firm, not a trace of empathy softening her words. “Camille, you can hate me, but you’re going to hear me. I say this with love, but also with absolute finality—you don’t have a choice.”
“I lied before.” Another tear fell. “I could never hate you, but I’m going to resent you for this until it’s over.”
“That’s fair.” Liis sighed, her gaze steady. “But when it is over, and everyone’s safe, you have to forgive us, okay? Trust us, trust the process, and we’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”
Her words took me by surprise, a glimpse of vulnerability breaking through her usual steel. I blinked, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Can you forgive me ?”
She sighed, a softness in her eyes I’d never seen before, as if she were grappling with her own memories, things she hadn’t said aloud. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cami. Whatever hurt I felt… it was never aimed at you. It was just the past casting shadows.
“You and Thomas loved each other, and in some ways, you still do. But it’s not the same—not like he loves me, or like you love Trent. That’s been so obvious over the years. It’s why I can understand the powerlessness you’re feeling right now, why you probably want to strangle me for what I’m asking you to do, and maybe even more for what I’m asking you not to do. I had to sit back, observe, only able to hope that my fears would be proven wrong. It’s the simplest of things that feel like the hardest part. But neither of you gave up on us, and here we are happy,” she cringed, “dodging bullets.”
I breathed out a laugh. As her words settled between us, I realized she was offering me something precious and hard-earned—a chance to be seen, not as a rival or a reminder, but simply as myself.
“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the weight of my own guilt easing in the warmth of her honesty.